


The Girl in the Iceberg

by Elizabeth (anghraine)



Series: The Girl in the Iceberg [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brothers, F/M, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anghraine/pseuds/Elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forty-five years after the return of Sozin's Comet and the conquest of the Earth Kingdom, only the Northern Water Tribe still stands. Rumours of a new Avatar in the Southern Tribe faded long ago, when their last waterbenders were carted off. All the world believes that the Avatar Cycle was broken: that the Avatar was never reborn into the Water Tribe. Alone, it cannot last much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Avatar

**Author's Note:**

> The story was written for [this prompt](http://ficbending.livejournal.com/1766.html?thread=1571814#t1571814) at ficbending, based on [this picture](http://paandra.tumblr.com/post/25871282154/the-girl-in-the-iceberg-will-someone-please). I'm sure somebody else has taken up the challenge--that's fandom!--but a few weeks ago, I decided I liked it enough to do my own take. I hope you enjoy!

Aang curled up on his bed. He felt very alone, and frightened, and exhausted, and soon he drifted off to strange dreams. He was holding a baby who hiccuped fire; he was staring down an earthbender, feeling at once angry and supremely unconcerned.

In the distance, a door creaked open. The earthbender fell far, far, down, his scream trailing behind him. Aang opened his eyes. Monk Gyatso stood in the doorway.

“I am glad to see you awake, Aang,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Aang sat up. “They haven't changed their minds, have they?”

“Not as such, no,” said Gyatso, but he smiled. “Don't worry, Aang. I won't let them take you from me. I will bring you to the Eastern Air Temple myself, and ask the sisters' permission to stay and guide you.”

“Really?” Aang's face lit up. “And you think they'll let you stay?”

Gyatso bowed his head. “They are kindly folk, and I have many friends there. I believe they will.”

He was still Aang's guardian, and free unto himself. The monks could make no objection to his sudden compliance, nor his determination to see Aang safely to the Eastern Temple. In a few days' time, both Aang and Gyatso whirled onto Appa's back, and flew away.

“Maybe it _is_ better this way,” Aang said. “Nobody would play with me any more. They'd hardly talk to me. I didn't really have anyone left but you and Appa. Do you think the girls at the Eastern Air Temple will talk to me?”

Gyatso's mouth twitched. “Very probably.”

In fact, the children at the Eastern Air Temple were very friendly; they'd never known Aang as anyone other than the Avatar, they wanted to learn his airball technique, and Aang, of course, rarely had any difficulty making friends. Within a few days, even the shyer girls, at first awed by the Avatar, laughed and shouted with him.

The sisters even agreed to let Gyatso stay. They might have been less accommodating for a different child, they admitted, but Aang could never be merely an Air Nomad. He was the Avatar. Attachment would always be part of his life. Too, the years ahead looked hard and dangerous, and Aang tended to the flighty; he could use a steadying influence right now.

Everything had gone as smoothly as either Aang or Gyatso could have wished. They should have been relieved. Yet after eight days, the old monk and the young Avatar remained anxious and uneasy. That evening, they sat together at the northern ledge of the temple, their shoulders stiff as they stared down into the reddening sky.

“Why's it that colour?”

“A comet,” said Gyatso. “That one comes near to the earth every hundred years. It is at its closest, tonight.”

Aang's eyes widened. “Is it going to hit us?”

“No, there's no danger,” Gyatso said, then frowned as a small, flickering light caught his eye. Aang seemed to have seen it, too. They both peered downwards.

More lights joined the first, gleaming in the dim reddish light. It looked strangely beautiful, as if hundreds of golden stars were rising to the heavens.

“What are all those fires?” asked Aang, just as gongs went off all through the temple. They both recognized the signal: the Air Temple was under attack.

#

The sisters and Gyatso intended for Aang to go with the other children, though they knew that neither he nor they were likely to survive. It was nearly impossible to reach an Air Temple, and nearly impossible to escape one.

“I won't leave you!” Aang screamed at Gyatso. Before anyone could respond, his eyes and arrows began to glow. He rose on a whirlwind, catching the first few blasts of fire in his hands and slinging them back, the gesture exactly Roku's.

The Avatar State. No, no; this was worse than the loss of the temple, the loss of every Air Nomad on the face of the globe. Gyatso raced after his enraged, terrified protégé, alternately fighting firebenders and shouting at Aang, begging him to come back. Aang seemed oblivious to everything but the attacking firebenders, who after initially reeling back, were now focusing all their comet-enhanced power on the Avatar.

They didn't even comprehend the victory they so nearly had in their grasp. Aang was simply the greatest obstacle in their path, and one they had not expected. Gyatso and the other airbenders defended him as well as they could, and desperately ignored the girls creeping their way down the mountain. Aang had managed to distract them from the other children, at least.

There was a brief lull in the fighting; the firebenders blasted down to call for reinforcements. Many of Gyatso's fellow Air Nomads lay dead around him.

One of the surviving sisters grabbed Gyatso's arm. “You must bring him back! If he dies in the Avatar State—”

Gyatso called out to Aang one last time, begging him to return to himself, swearing that he would not be sent away. Any chance for that, they all knew, had passed.

“I will stay with you to the end, Aang,” he promised.

The roar of the whirlwind faded. Aang dropped down, slumped against Gyatso's side. When he opened his eyes, they were human and grey.

“I'm sorry,” he said, biting his lip.

Gyatso had no words left. He hugged him tightly. Then they both dodged incoming blasts of fire, Aang directing spirals of wind at the firebenders' weak points, Gyatso sucking the air out of their lungs. The two of them fought for hours more: but finally, inevitably, they died.

Their bodies collapsed to the ground together, and dozens of firebenders lay dead around them.

Far away, in a small village in the South Pole, a young waterbender went into labour.

 

The baby’s name was Korra. A few months after her birth, her mother went to the aid of a nearby village, and never returned. The Fire Nation, their slaughter of the Air Nomads complete, had turned their attention to the Water Tribe. The Northern Tribe, they heard, still stood fast, but the southern villages were falling one by one. The last healers in their village, including Korra’s father, had been herded away by the time she turned three; her mother’s brother snatched her up in his arms before she could do more than scream, holding her so tightly that her arms and legs went numb.

Korra’s uncle and aunt had some idea of hiding her bending, but it proved impossible. She was an active, healthy girl, not remotely lazy, but she seemed to waterbend as readily as she ate or slept. A few months later, she threw a tantrum outside their tent, and several pebbles soared through the air, perfectly following the trajectory of her arms. Everyone in the vicinity gasped, pointed at her, ran to tell their neighbours what they had seen. The Avatar was here. The Avatar was _Korra._

It only took her another six weeks to start shooting small spurts of fire out her fingertips, to the admiration of all the other children. Korra’s uncle and aunt turned, in desperation, to the village elders, and they agreed that it was too dangerous for her to remain. She must be hidden from the Fire Nation until she grew old enough to master all the elements and challenge the Fire Lord. She was taken, with her polar beardog puppy, to the Southern Water Tribe’s Avatar Temple, to live in quiet solitude, far from any potential informants, and free to continue her training.

For several years, she lived in comparative safety with them, isolated and restless. Though most keepers of the temple were waterbenders, none were masters. She had surpassed them all by the time she turned twelve. She needed a waterbending master, and the sages feared that the Fire Nation’s reach would soon extend even to the temple. There was only one place left.

“The Northern Water Tribe,” breathed Korra. “I’m finally going to see it! When do I leave?”

Sage Tekku gave her a quelling glance. “You are ahead of yourself, as usual, Korra. When we have reached a decision, we will inform you, and no sooner.”

Korra heaved a sigh and wandered out to fling herself at Naga’s side.

“How am I supposed to save the world if I haven’t even mastered any of the elements?” she demanded, rebelliously twirling a few pebbles in the air above her fingers. The sages didn’t approve of her earthbending or firebending; they said she should focus all her attention on water instead of wasting her time developing bad habits. She had to master water, _then_ earth, fire, and (somehow) air. She wanted to gag.

Naga gave a sympathetic roar. Korra flung the small rocks away, saddled her friend, climbed on, and rode to the nearest cliff. She liked to look down from up here. It made her feel less powerless, less pointless. She wanted nothing more than to master the elements and show the Fire Lord who was boss; she longed to see the world, to have adventures, not just day after day of nothing. She was the Avatar! She should be doing _something._ Korra scowled down at the endless sea of white.

The sages wavered over their inevitable decision for weeks. The journey would be a dangerous one, even if the Fire Nation were not raiding their destination. What if Korra got captured? What if Korra got lost in the Earth Kingdom? What if Korra did any of the things Korra was eminently likely to do?

In the end, though, there was no choice. The South Pole was too dangerous, and Korra had to master waterbending. They informed her that she was to go to the Northern Water Tribe, escorted by the temple’s most skilled waterbenders.

“Yes!” Korra jumped up and down, pumping her fists.

The Water sages stared at her.

She coughed and bowed. “I mean. I’m glad you think I’m ready to start my training as the Avatar.”

“Well, it’s good that you appreciate the gravity--”

Korra’s mind had already skipped ahead. She beamed. “Fire Lord Sozin won’t know what hit him!”

The Water sages only sighed.

#

Between one thing and another, it took almost a year to reach the Northern Water Tribe. The sages refused to cross even the smallest stream on Naga, so they had to hire boats for everything—but not the main ferries, that was too noticeable. They travelled at night, both for cover and because they were at their strongest then, took the least-charted roads they could find, and went far out of their way to avoid any Fire Nation soldiers. Or rumours of Fire Nation soldiers. Or chance of Fire Nation soldiers.

“Aren't they busy hunting waterbenders?” Korra grumbled at Naga. Her hands, though, were gentle as she plucked thorns out of her friend's paws, and Naga barked agreement, then licked the side of her face. Korra laughed.

She supposed they must have wandered through a good part of the Earth Kingdom, but she hardly saw anything. The few times she tried to slip off with Naga, just to look at the different villages, the sages dragged her back before she'd gone more than a few hundred feet. It was almost as boring as staying in the South Pole.

Well, more boring, probably. If she'd stayed the Fire Nation would have captured her by now.

Korra practiced her waterbending in what spare time she had, sneaking earthbending and firebending when nobody seemed to be looking. They both came so easily—especially fire, which should have been her opposite element. But she didn't know what to do with them. Even with water, she knew there was so much more she could be doing.

Her thirteenth birthday approached as they wandered the northern coast of the Earth Kingdom, and they didn't seem to be getting any nearer. Even in the Earth Kingdom clothes Tekku had found for them all, people mostly gave them suspicious looks when they asked about the Northern Water Tribe. The most helpful strangers just laughed when Tekku asked about hiring a boat, and said that the city had been walled off for the last decade or so, since the Fire Nation first attacked.

“Tried to attack,” said an apple merchant, smugly.

Korra felt a thrill of pride. Holding off Fire Nation armies year after year? Now _that_ was waterbending. They were just the people to teach her what she needed to know.

_I'm the Avatar_ , she wanted to say, _and I'm here to save the world! Just tell me where to go._ But if they knew, they weren't talking. The best directions Tekku got were “keep heading north, I guess.”

The sages squabbled over exactly how to go about heading north without risking Korra. Any boat small enough for them to manage with waterbending would likely get smashed on the ice. A larger one would need a crew. Only a master waterbender could hope to cross the ice on foot—and slim hope, at that.

By the night before her birthday, Korra had lost all patience with them. It wasn't that she usually had a whole lot of it, but she had at least accepted that they knew what they were doing and would actually get her there, eventually. But now it looked like they'd rather just sit around and talk about how impossible everything was until Fire Lord Sozin took over the whole world.

“Naga and I—” she began.

“No, Korra,” they said, all together. Korra was half-tempted to slap them down with water whips, shoot fire and then just run away—but they had done a whole lot for her, and were risking their lives for her, and besides, it might not work. She sulked against Naga for a quarter-hour, then tried to think. She couldn't sneak away. She'd tried that before, and Naga was just too big to hide. Korra was much faster and stronger than any of the men, though; without their waterbending, they'd never catch up with her.

There was no way to take away their bending, though. And really, she wouldn't even if she could. Bending was who they _were_. But if there were only some way to stop it just for a little while—

Something tugged at her mind—a vague memory of shouting and crying, desperately wanting to bend, but somehow unable to do it, her hands and feet going numb as she struggled. There'd been something around her wrists and ankles, something almost soft: leather, or some sort of cloth.

Korra looked thoughtfully at the bands wrapped around her arms.

She waited until the sun rose and they made their camp for the night, even kicking off her boots and curling up against Naga. Her heart was pounding, and she had to force herself to calm down enough to hear the sages' breathing. She waited for it to slow down, deepen, shift into low snores. Then she prodded Naga awake and immediately hushed her. Saddling her as quietly as she could, Korra shot nervous glances over her shoulder; the sages didn't so much as twitch. Then, still barefoot, she crept over to them. Korra forced her breath to stay calm. This was her only chance; if she ruined it, she'd never have another.

Korra took out her armbands, each torn and soaked with water. She looped them around the sages' wrists and ankles, tying them as loosely as she could. Tekku stirred slightly, muttering to himself.

She held her breath, not daring to move. He drifted back into sleep and Korra slipped back to Naga, shoving her feet into her boots. Then she bent all the water in the bands into ice.

“What?” Tekku jerked awake, then stared down at his frozen wrists. “Korra, what are you doing? Korra!”

The other sages woke up as she clambered onto the waiting Naga.

“Sorry!” she said, and bent low in the saddle. “Naga, go!”

They took off, Naga only too eager to run after days of forced inactivity. Korra only caught a glimpse of an Earth Kingdom village as they thundered through, almost knocking over some people at a vegetable cart. She shouted an apology and they headed straight for the ocean. Korra hesitated only a moment. Glancing back, she saw her mentors running after her.

“Korra!” they shouted. “Come back! You don't know what you're doing! You're—”

“Time for a swim, girl,” Korra whispered to Naga. She braced herself.

Naga leapt into the freezing water. Korra wrapped a ball of water around them, hanging on with her knees. She could breathe; they were free.

Her euphoria lasted for a full twenty minutes. By then the air within the water-bubble had run out and she had to pull Naga up so she could breathe. Even though she bent all the water out of her clothes, she was still bitterly cold, and she had almost no supplies. As night came on, it only grew worse; she had to bury her face against Naga, breathing through her fur, just to avoid feeling as if the air were slicing its way down her throat. Even Naga grew tired; they collapsed on an ice floe and looked around them. Korra saw nothing but an endless icy sea.

She wasn't prepared to admit, though, that the sages had been right. They hadn't been right. This might be a harder way than she'd expected, but it was still the only way.

Once Naga had rested, they started again. Korra slept on and off, recovering enough energy to keep the ice from injuring Naga, occasionally catch fish, and warm her face and hands with fire. Beyond that, she could only keep them headed north; she had a good sense of direction, and it was all the direction she had.

Korra was slumped against Naga when a half-familiar sound jerked her awake. A ship—no, several ships, by the sound of them. She sat upright, looking around; she didn't see any. Some of the snowflakes drifting from the sky, though, were black. The sages had always warned her to keep an eye out for black snow, because it would mean the Fire Nation had finally come for her.

“They're here!” Korra dug her fingers into Naga's fur, trying to force her sluggish mind to keep working. If they caught her, everything would be over.

But if they were attacking the Northern Water Tribe, they could lead her straight to them.

Korra urged Naga downwards, holding her arms out to keep the water flowing at a safe distance. For the first time in her memory, it seemed to resist her, the current struggling against her hold. She barely had the strength to keep gripping Naga with her legs, but they had to go on. They made their way forward, Korra half-bending and half-swimming, then they both emerged, gulping for air. Korra struggled to keep her eyelids up and peered into the distance. She could see them, now—a dozen bellowing Fire Nation ships, sailing full-steam for the northeast. Another had crashed against a nearby slab of ice.

The wind was howling and the snow so thick that she could hardly see. That was why the water had fought her; a storm was coming.

Fire Nation soldiers poured out of their sinking ship, onto the ice. Korra, half-numb, wondered if she should try to help. Before she could decide, one of the soldiers pointed at her and shouted something.

Two flames shot right over her head. Korra would have gladly returned returned the fire, but she didn't know how, not properly—not against real firebenders—and she was very, very tired. She grabbed Naga's reins and dove back into the water, trying to bend them to safety. Korra managed to propel them a few hundred feet through the water, but no more. The wild current finally escaped her control, sweeping their bodies deeper into the sea. Water filled Korra's nose and mouth, her grip on Naga's reins loosened, and her mind began to dim. She was going to die.

Korra's eyes flew open, glowing white. Her hands tightened again, back into fists; her fists pressed together; her body righted itself in total indifference to the laws of nature. Then the powerful current swirled around her and Naga, and froze into an icy sphere.


	2. The Avatar Returns

Noatak didn't know if he were angrier at Tarrlok for being a spineless whiner, or at Yakone for frightening his little brother. He settled for a combination of both and walked in sullen silence. He didn't even know what their father had threatened from his sickbed--for once, Noatak hadn't been there. He could easily imagine it, though.

Behind him, Tarrlok's boots thumped lightly against the snow. Tarrlok drew a breath, as if about to say something—then let it out, then gathered himself again, then stopped, back and forth, over and over. Noatak was starting to twitch every time he heard Tarrlok inhale.

“Will you stop it?” he snapped.

“I'm sorry,” said Tarrlok, his voice low. As usual, it rang with sincerity--and misery, even without Yakone here.

Almost despite himself, Noatak felt his fury bleeding away. It always did. His temper ran cool rather than hot—his and Tarrlok's both, suitably enough, but sometimes Noatak thought he could almost feel his native ice crackling inside him, spreading through his veins. He understood the anxious, wistful looks his brother sent his way, even if he didn't know what to do about them.

Noatak protected Tarrlok as much as ever—more than ever, when it came to their father, and if there were none of the laughter or games he remembered from before, neither brother had time for them. They couldn't just master waterbending, they had to perfect it, practicing day in and day out, and on top of it, there was bloodbending and hunting—or, most often, some combination of both. Not just on full moons, now. Noatak's mind was full of everything he had to do and be, and Yakone's plots against the Fire Nation, and worrying about Tarrlok.

Even Tarrlok, he was sure, didn't suspect the last. Noatak dreamed of running away, escaping it all, but then he always remembered Tarrlok: too young to survive the wilderness, too _Tarrlok_ to bear their father's expectations alone. Sometimes Noatak dreamed, too, of the ice slowly overtaking his body until he was just a sculpture of himself, then creeping beyond him, climbing up and over Tarrlok as well. Every time, he woke up frozen in place, his skin cold and clammy, and fled to the nearest cliff. His mind ran in circles over his father's plan, his destiny, his brother's—his baby brother, still, more helpless than any bloodbender had a right to be.

Noatak cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. It was impossible to stay angry at Tarrlok for very long, anyway—it felt like kicking a baby turtleseal. Unless you were Yakone, of course, and frankly Noatak thought him perfectly capable of kicking every baby animal unlucky enough to cross his path. Humans included.

“What's your problem, anyway?” he asked. “You're not getting queasy over hunting, too, are you?”

“No,” said Tarrlok.

“Besides, it's just us. No Dad, no bloodbending. That should cheer you up.”

Tarrlok was a wimp about bloodbending, even though he'd just managed it under a half-moon. Noatak was better, of course. He was better at everything. He was also three years older, which nobody but Noatak himself seemed to ever consider. He was still convinced that Tarrlok would be every bit as good as he was, or nearly, if he could just get over this stupid block. But still. It was nice to hunt without all the bloodbending drama, for once. And it was definitely nice to get away from their father.

Tarrlok gave a startled laugh. “Okay. Yeah, it does, some.” His heart sped up. “You're not going to make me bloodbend?”

“Me?”

“You could. You're stronger.”

Noatak didn't know if he meant size or bending or what, and didn't much care. There was a sick, twisting sensation in his gut that he hadn't felt for a long time, since almost the first time he'd bent an animal. “I'm not going to force you to do anything!”

“Well, thanks.”

Noatak felt strangely insulted. After a moment of mental flailing, he settled on a reason for it.

“I’m not Dad.”

“I know that,” said Tarrlok, after an infinitesimal hesitation that screamed in Noatak’s ears.

“I’m not _like_ Dad, okay?”

The hesitation was longer this time. “Okay, Noatak.”

Noatak whirled around, the butt of his spear smacking the ground. He was just fast enough to surprise the same alarm on Tarrlok’s face that he’d seen hundreds of times before, but only ever directed at their father. After everything he’d done, everything he’d put himself through because _mostprotectTarrlokmustprotectTarrlokmustprotectTarrlok_ still circled endlessly in his brain, Tarrlok was afraid of him. How dared he look like that at him--look wary, as if Noatak were a wild animal that might attack at any moment--

“I can’t believe you,” he snarled, and even he knew that couldn’t help but make things worse.

Instinctively, Tarrlok stepped back, then held his ground. His face had already smoothed over, even as his heart pounded in Noatak’s ears. When had Tarrlok learned to do that? What had he started hiding things--hiding things from Noatak?

“I said you weren’t like him,” said Tarrlok, his voice short and snippy and perfectly younger-brother-ish. If he didn’t know better-- “What else do you want? I’m not going to pretend.”

“You _are_ pretending!” Even Tarrlok’s heartbeat had begun to slow down. But Noatak could tell he wasn’t calming down, not really. Tarrlok was controlling his own pulse.

It’d been years since bloodbending had bothered Noatak. He could bend every wolf in the North Pole without a qualm. This, though--this seemed far more perverse and unnatural than anything Noatak had ever done. As bad as Tarrlok thought normal bloodbending was.

“You’re pretending you’re not afraid of me,” he said, brows snapping together and dropping into a scowl. “You’re bloodbending yourself! I can hear you!”

“Well, you don’t have to listen,” said Tarrlok sulkily. “It’s practically eavesdropping. And I’m not afraid of you! I mean, sure, for a moment, but that’s only because you surprised me.”

His face was still carefully blank. Still wary. A few feet to their right and many more down, the ocean roared; the hunting route had taken them along the southern shore. Noatak felt everything: the moon and the sea and the snow beneath their feet and his brother’s blood mingling together, calling to him.

_“Stop lying.”_

“Fine,” said Tarrlok, and the creepy empty look vanished. He just looked angry now. Even that was a relief. “Yeah, it scares me, and half the time you scare me too. You’re a completely different person now!” He waved his arms. “You always used to play with me and look out for me and-- These days you look like you want to feed me to the wolves when you even remember I’m here! I never know what you’re going to do but it’s always horrible!”

The water swept halfway up the cliff, unnoticed.

“Oh, grow up, Tarrlok,” Noatak said, if less forcefully than he’d have liked. “Playing games won’t help us get revenge on the Fire Nation.”

“I don’t care about stupid Dad’s stupid revenge. I just want to save our tribe!”

“--and I am looking out for you! I protect you all the time and _maybe_ if you weren’t such a _weakling_ then I wouldn’t have to be perfect every moment of every single day!”

Tarrlok’s hands tightened into fists. “I’m not weak!”

Sea-spray splattered over Noatak’s left cheek. Frowning, he glanced over the edge, and his eyes widened. The waves were bursting upwards with each of Tarrlok’s careless gestures.

“Uh--”

“And you’re not perfect, you’re a monster! You like it, I know you do! You like torturing those helpless animals! What’s going to be next? Wild polar beardogs?”

Noatak scarcely heard him. “Tarrlok, you need to stop!” He lifted his hands to try and bend the water back down, but it'd built so much power by now that he didn't have much hope.

“Oh, I guess I’m next? Or maybe Mom--”

Noatak shot him a panicked look. The water had so much momentum-- “Shut up and help me bend!”

“I’m not shutting up! Yeah, I bet you don’t want to hear--” The waves were slipping out of his control, loud enough that Tarrlok broke off and followed his gaze. “. . . Bend what?”

With an ear-splitting roar, the waves burst free, surging up and over the cliff. The land between them split open. Tarrlok shrieked, finally releasing the water, though it couldn’t help now. Noatak, abandoning all efforts to control the ocean, sprang over the widening crack, bending the water beneath him into an icy slide and flinging himself towards his terrified brother. His body rammed right into Tarrlok’s, both of them flying into the wall just as the entire side of the cliff splintered. They both screamed, desperately bending frozen footholds out of the cliff. Noatak encased the lower halves of their bodies in ice.

That was all that kept them from flying off and falling to their deaths--or at least, to severe discomfort. Instead, their chunk of the cliff crashed down to the ocean. One last wave swept over them, soaking them both. Coughing, they freed themselves from Noatak’s ice-hold and crawled towards each other, Noatak helping his brother sit up.

Tarrlok, his outrage forgotten, stared up at the broken cliff in wonder.

“Did I do that?”

“Congratulations,” said Noatak dryly. He couldn’t help but think of the dozens, if not hundreds, of times he’d said Tarrlok would be a great waterbender, if he could just get over himself. “Tarrlok?”

Tarrlok rubbed his eyes and looked again. He shook his head. “Yeah?”

“I _told_ you so.”

Tarrlok gave a shaky laugh. Before he could respond, or (as was rather more likely) Noatak could continue gloating, the fractured chunk of land beneath them shuddered, splintering further. They scrambled to their feet and fled to the safety of the ocean, freezing the surface beneath them as they went. Noatak already felt better, supported by their waterbending rather than brittle earth, but he was glad enough to reach a nearby ice floe. Only then did they look behind them.

An iceberg. Nothing unusual, here--or it shouldn’t have been. At first, they could only make out the pale tip, jostling the bit of land they’d abandoned. Then it kept rising, and it wasn’t just pale, it was _glowing._

Spirit shenanigans, Noatak suspected.

“Come on, let’s check it out!” Tarrlok said brightly.

Noatak had never fought a spirit before. “All right,” he said. Tarrlok blinked. “You do the left, I’ll take the right.”

They bent the water on either side of the floe, propelling themselves towards the still-rising, still-glowing iceberg.

They lowered their arms in unison. Noatak thought he could make out two dim shapes within the iceberg; he flung out an arm in front of his brother.

“Stay back.”

“But--”

Noatak silenced him with a glare. Tarrlok subsided into grumbling obedience, and Noatak stepped forward. His eyes narrowed as the iceberg finished rising, towering over them in all its uncanny blue-white radiance. He peered into it--the larger of the shapes looked like a polar beardog, of all things. Well, it _might_ be a spirit. The figure beneath the beardog, though, looked vaguely human.

He leapt over to the base of the iceberg, trailed at a cautious distance by his brother. The humanoid figure resolved into the shape of a--a _girl?_ Yes, a girl in Water Tribe gear, wearing her hair exactly as he used to, her legs crossed, fists pressed together, and eyes shut.

“What?” said Tarrlok.

Maybe it was just the corpses of some unfortunate travellers, preserved by the ice? But there was something oddly . . . alert about their posture, as if they’d never fallen unconscious at all, just--

The girl’s eyes flew open. Noatak lifted an eyebrow. She had no irises or pupils, or even whites; where they should have been, there was only blue-white light, glowing the exact same shade as the iceberg.

All right, maybe a spirit.

A spirit wearing Water Tribe clothes. And Noatak's hairstyle.

He lifted his arms. Behind him, he could feel his brother shaking, but Tarrlok didn’t say anything. That was the thing about Tarrlok; he almost never did say anything. No matter how terrified or miserable he got, he followed Noatak everywhere. That made it easy to overlook how pathetic he could be, sometimes. It made it easier to hate their father, too.

“I can help,” Tarrlok said, scrambling forwards, until he stood just behind Noatak. Noatak just sighed and nodded. They’d only begun to chip at the iceberg, though, when it burst into a cloud of snow, throwing them both back. The boys crouched down and shielded their faces, squinting as the snow raced up the iceberg, slicing it neatly down the middle, then enveloping the entire thing. A bolt of light shot towards the sky.

Noatak, still crouching, wrapped an arm around Tarrlok, fingers digging into his brother’s shoulder, and held the other in front of them, ready to bend. Tarrlok was too stunned to protest.

They glanced at each other nervously, then got up, dusting themselves off.

“What’s that?” Tarrlok breathed.

The girl, her eyes still glowing, crawled out of the crevasse. Noatak stepped in front of Tarrlok, both hands held up.

No spirit magic confronted him. The girl’s eyes fluttered closed and she collapsed, her body sliding down the remains of the iceberg. Instinctively, Noatak reached out to catch her. Tarrlok stepped forward to help him settle her against the base of the iceberg.

She gave a small moan. Her eyes opened half-way: normal eyes, now. Normal _Water Tribe_ eyes, the irises a clear blue-green. She blinked up at Noatak.

“Are you . . . me?” she said faintly.

Tarrlok snickered.

“Shut up,” Noatak told him. He turned back to the girl. “No, I’m not. Who _are_ you?”

She blinked at them several more times. Then her eyes opened wide and she smiled.

“I’m Korra!” she announced, jumping to her feet. She rubbed her hands together, then with a frown of concentration, lit a flame on them.

“You’re a firebender!” Tarrlok gasped.

Both brothers backed up, lifting their hands and eyeing her suspiciously. It occurred to Noatak that he’d never bloodbent another human before. He’d figured for a while now that Yakone would be his first. She should be easier, though. She was smaller. Apparently, she wasn't a waterbender, either.

“Well, yeah,” said Korra, closing her hands on the fire. She looked at them and only grinned more broadly. “I’m the Avatar!”

#

In the years since the fall of Ba Sing Se, the Fire Nation's control over the Earth Kingdom had continued to spread. Scarcely any corners of the vast territories were not overseen by Fire Nation officials.

The most desperate, like Zahra's family, never stayed in one place for long, but moved further and further north. Their newest house was on the far northern edge of the most northward Earth Kingdom island. When she climbed the mountainside, Zahra could make out the southernmost reaches of the Northern Water Tribe--on clear days, anyway.

Today wasn't clear. It didn't matter; Zahra was tired of listening to her father and uncle talk anxiously about where to run from here. She was tired of running. She clambered onto a small plateau and threw herself on the snowy ground. It was quiet and peaceful here--finally, she thought, letting herself drift off.

She'd only slept for a few minutes when something blazed against her eyelids. Zahra jerked awake.

She still couldn't see the opposite shore. But she could see a brilliant bolt of light shooting up into the sky. Everyone for miles around could.

Zahra's amber eyes widened. She scrambled down the mountainside as fast as she could.

"Dad!" she shouted, running towards the fence around their house. Her father was standing at the gate, still staring north, though the light had disappeared by now. "Dad, did you see that?"

With an effort, her father tore his gaze from the sky.

"I saw it," said Zuko.


	3. First Impressions

Noatak’s and Tarrlok’s jaws dropped in unison. They both gaped at Korra.  
  
She laughed. “I guess you weren’t expecting me?”  
  
It was, unusually, Tarrlok who pulled himself together first. He snapped his mouth shut, lowered his hands, and swallowed.  
  
“Uh,” he said. “No?”  
  
Noatak scowled at her. “How do we know you’re telling the truth and that this isn’t some Fire Nation plot? Stay away from her, Tarrlok, she could be a spy--”  
  
“A spy? Me? But I’m Water Tribe!”  
  
They stared at her. Tarrlok backed into his brother. At any other time, Noatak would have pushed him away and told him to stand up for himself. Now, he just clapped a hand on Tarrlok’s shoulders.  
  
Korra rolled her eyes. “Fine. Water.” She twirled a small stream through the air. “Earth.” She moved a few crumbs of earth up off the sinking cliff, then cupped a flame in her hands again. “Fire. Just like the sages are always going on about.”  
  
“She _is_ the Avatar,” whispered Tarrlok.  
  
“She’s right here!” Korra said, putting her hands on her hips.  
  
Tarrlok blinked. “Well, sorry. Everyone says you’re extinct. The Avatar, I mean. It’s just … um. Surprising. Dad--”  
  
Without a word, Noatak turned and ice-walked to their floe, dragging a more-than-usually-compliant Tarrlok after him.  
  
“What are you doing? Where are you going? You can’t leave me here!” Korra shouted after them. Then, without missing a beat, she added, “You’re _waterbenders!_ That’s great!”  
  
Noatak didn’t let go of Tarrlok’s arm, just dug his fingers in more deeply.  
  
“Something’s not right.”  
  
“Come on, Noatak. You saw her bend. The glowy eyes were probably just some Avatar thing.”  
  
“Of course they were some Avatar thing,” Noatak snapped. “I can see what’s in front of my face. But she’s . . . strange.” They both glanced at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was tapping one of her boots on the ice. Noatak was abruptly convinced that, despite her display of three elements, she didn’t know all that much about waterbending; if she had, she’d have marched right after them.  
  
“She thought we might be expecting her,” Tarrlok said slowly. He looked up at Noatak. “But the Avatar’s been gone for over a hundred years.”  
  
“Let me think." Noatak rubbed his cheek. "Okay, the Air Nomad Avatar died the first time the comet came, that’s about a hundred and fifty years ago now. Everyone thought the cycle ended then, but maybe it didn’t.”  
  
“We’d have heard if there’d been an Avatar from our own tribe!” said Tarrlok.  
  
“Not if it was in the South Pole. So either that one died in the raids--say, around thirty years later, and then there’d be an Earth Kingdom Avatar--”  
  
“That nobody ever heard of either?”  
  
“There’d have been a huge rebellion if they’d known they had an Avatar. So he must have been kept secret, but didn’t live long enough to do anything. Let’s go twenty years. And after that--”  
  
Tarrlok swallowed. “The Fire Nation.”  
  
They fell silent, just imagining the Fire Nation with an Avatar at their beck and call. Unless even a Fire Nation Avatar was too much of a threat. Maybe the Fire Lord would have thought that if he killed the Avatar this time, with no Air Nomads to reincarnate into, the cycle would be over for good.  
  
“Then Air--I don’t know how that would work. I guess it could have skipped past.”  
  
“She didn’t bend air,” Tarrlok pointed out.  
  
“She’s not even much of a waterbender right now,” said Noatak. He threw a scornful glance in her direction, just in time to see her climbing back over the iceberg, almost as if she were looking for something. He just shook his head.  
  
“She bent all three of the others, though. Maybe air’s just gone.”  
  
Noatak paused. “Yeah, could be. And then back to the Water Tribe. That could work. Maybe it’s kept cycling through, and they’ve all died young.”  
  
Tarrlok gave him one of his odd shrewd looks. “But you don’t think so.”  
  
“ _All_ the Water Tribe Avatars would have to be in the South Pole,” Noatak said. “It wouldn’t be fair. Especially when this is the only place where one might actually have a chance of growing up.” Absently, he chewed his lip. “And she thought her being Water Tribe really meant that she couldn’t be a spy. Where does she think they come from?”  
  
Tarrlok snickered. “Imagine someone actually from the Fire Nation trying to sneak in.”  
  
They both laughed.  


“Then--what?” said Tarrlok.

“I don’t know,” Noatak admitted. “Well, I’m not sure. But I think she might have been in that iceberg for a long time. A _very_ long time. If I'm right, then we have a lot to explain. And that’s not even bringing Dad into it.”

Tarrlok’s eyes rounded. “D’you think he’ll teach her bloodbending?”

“Is that seriously the worst thing you can think of?” Noatak snorted. “Besides, we can only do it so well because it’s strong in our family. Even if she’s the Avatar, she doesn’t have that. But she might be able to learn. And if she can’t, three bloodbenders and the Avatar against the Fire Nation is still as close to a fair fight as he’ll ever get. He’ll want to keep her.”

“She’s not a thing,” Tarrlok said.

“ _We’re_ things, to Dad.” Noatak tried to shrug it off. The familiar chilly detachment was creeping back into his blood. Even Tarrlok didn’t look particularly disturbed. He knew what their father was almost as well as Noatak.

A sudden roar nearly startled him out of his skin. Tarrlok jerked so violently he just about tumbled off the floe. Noatak snagged his parka and they both turned towards the iceberg to see a polar beardog clambering over the top, encouraged by the Avatar. Noatak had forgotten all about the _other_ creature in the iceberg.

They retraced their steps, and Korra gave them a smug look.

“Done gossiping? This is Naga, my best friend.”

“Your best friend,” Noatak said flatly, “is a polar beardog.”

“That is _so cool_ ,” said Tarrlok.

Korra grinned down at him, visibly unthawing. “Yeah, it pretty much is. Naga, this is … um. Sorry. I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m Tarrlok. This is my older brother, Noatak. We were on a hunting trip, only I broke the cliff with waterbending.”

“Seriously?” said Korra.

Naga shook herself dry, drenching all of them. Noatak, always fastidious, dried himself and his brother off, and left Korra to take care of herself.

“Waterbending is the most powerful thing in the world,” he said coolly.

“I like firebending best,” said Korra, tossing her head.

Noatak’s eyes narrowed. “The Fire Nation’s that way,” he said, pointing south. “I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”

“What are you talking about?” Korra took a furious step towards him, hands curling into fists. “The Fire Nation took my parents!”

“Join the club,” said Noatak, unimpressed.

Tarrlok glanced between his brother and the Avatar.

“Noatak,” he said, his voice shrill, “it's getting late. Dad'll . . . well, he'll do something. Especially if we don't come back with anything.”

He was right. Sort of. Noatak suspected their father wouldn't care about much else once they showed up with the Avatar—but still, it was always better safe than sorry with Yakone.

“Good point,” he said. He glanced at the Avatar. “You and your pet do know how to hunt, right?”

Korra just crossed her arms.

“If that's a yes, help us and we'll take you home to our village. Or you can just stay here, I guess.”

Tarrlok looked uncomfortable. “He doesn't mean it. Noatak, we're—”

Noatak jabbed him in the ribs.

“Fine,” said Korra.

“You can stay for dinner! And whatever else you need,” said Tarrlok, offering a tentative smile.

“Well—”

“You've got to be hungry.”

Naga roared, and Korra laughed, rubbing the beardog's side. “A little. We must have been in there awhile.”

After another brief argument, Korra climbed onto Naga's back, and tossed up each brother after her. Noatak, rubbing his arm, was almost certain they'd have bruises. She was strong, anyway.

Rather to his surprise, Naga made no attempt to dislodge him or Tarrlok. Usually animals didn't like them. He decided to return the favour by subtly helping her along, keeping her massive quantities of blood pumping just fast enough to keep her alert. It took enough of his concentration that he left the water bubble entirely to his brother. Tarrlok could use the distraction, anyway—Noatak could tell that he was terrified of the beardog, though desperately trying not to show it.

“I could have done that, you know,” Korra pointed out. “I know how.”

“It's okay,” said Tarrlok tightly. Noatak kept a firm grip on his anorak, just in case.

Korra glanced over her shoulder and grinned down at Tarrlok, ignoring Noatak altogether. “Well, you're a really good waterbender. Maybe you could teach me that ice thing?”

“Thanks,” said Tarrlok, flushing. Naga sniffed at the edges of the bubble with considerable suspicion. “But Noatak's the prodigy, not me. You'd be better off with him.”

Korra wrinkled her nose, and Noatak pretended not to notice.

“Which one of you just sliced up the cliff?” she asked.

“Well—”

“Tarrlok's good enough, he's just stupid sometimes,” Noatak said, jabbing his brother in the back. “Like now.”

“Ow!”

Korra gave a surprised chuckle. “Well, you both seem all right to me.”

It sounded like a peace offering. Tarrlok looked back at him.

“See, Tarrlok? Even the Avatar agrees with me,” said Noatak. “Okay, I think this is far enough. Can you pull up here, Korra?”

“Sure.”

The polar beardog surfaced and Tarrlok lowered his hands. Sure enough, the land wasn't much higher than the sea, here. Naga scrambled out of the water so fast that Tarrlok and Noatak both hung on to Korra for dear life, then gladly jumped off after her. Naga threw herself on the ground, nosing the snow and making what Noatak could only assume were blissful noises.

Korra laughed again. “It's been awhile since we saw land. So, what are we looking for? I've never hunted around here before. And where is here, anyway? _Please_ tell me it's some part of the Northern Water Tribe.”

Noatak and Tarrlok exchanged bewildered glances.

“Well, yes,” said Noatak. “We're from the Northern Water Tribe. And we'd like tigerseals, if we could get them. That's why we came this far south.”

“This far _south?_ ” Korra looked thrilled. “Wow. This is great. I've been looking for this place for ages. I thought there'd be more buildings, but—that's okay. As long as there are waterbenders. And obviously there are.” She waved at them.

“If you mean the city, it's pretty far east of our village,” said Noatak. “But there are waterbenders everywhere.”

“Good enough,” Korra said, prodding at Naga. “In fact, you've got to have a teacher, don't you? I bet he could finish my training and then I can master the other three elements and defeat Fire Lord Sozin!”

Tarrlok choked.

“Fire Lord Sozin,” Noatak repeated.

Korra poked her grumbling companion. “Of course! You don't _want_ him to rule the world, do you?”

“Um,” said Tarrlok. “I, uh. I guess you were right, Noatak.”

Korra looked up. “Right about what? Do you know something about the Fire Lord?”

“No,” said Noatak, actually faltering for a moment. He forced himself to straighten. “I mean--nothing important. I was thinking you've been in that iceberg for . . . awhile. Do you know how long it's been?”

“A few days, I guess. Has something happened to the Fire Lord since then?”

“Well,” said Noatak, “he's dead.”

Korra's blue-green eyes went wide. “Really? Then who took over the Fire Nation after him?”

“Er. Fire Lord Azulon,” said Noatak.

“He's dead too,” Tarrlok announced.

Korra blinked.

“So then it was Fire Lord Ozai,” Noatak said. “He died a little while back.”

“That's—that's a lot of dead Fire Lords,” said Korra, bewildered.

“It's Fire Lord Azula now,” Tarrlok said glumly. “And she's worse than all the others put together.”

“She's pretty bad,” admitted Noatak.

“Fire Lord Azula,” Korra said to herself. “Well, all right. She's the one I have to defeat. If something doesn't kill her first. It sounds like they're dropping like spiderflies!”

“Well. It's been longer than a few days, Korra.”

“Really?”

 _“Really,”_ said Tarrlok.

Noatak took a deep breath. “More like a hundred and thirty years,” he said.


	4. Shadows of the Past

A hundred and thirty years. _A hundred and thirty years._

Korra tried to make herself think about anything else, and couldn’t. Over a hundred years. Every person she’d known, every person she’d ever met, they were all dead. The people she hadn’t met too - every single living person, millions of them, were dead. Sozin was dead. And there’d been three more generations of Fire Lords, one right after the other. When she asked, Noatak said that Fire Lord Azula was fifty or sixty by now.

She hadn’t just failed to stop Sozin. She hadn’t done anything. The world had needed her, needed its Avatar, and she _hadn’t been there._ Maybe the sages had been right, after all. They would have found a way eventually, wouldn’t they? Not as soon as they should have, but not a hundred and thirty years late, either. Korra dropped her eyes to Naga’s head, and absently scratched her ears. At least she still had Naga with her. It wasn’t like she’d had any other family, anyway - not since she was a little girl.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad, she thought hopefully, then remembered the Fire Lords again. Not that bad for her, personally. But it’d been awful for the entire world. She was the worst Avatar ever.

Korra blinked back tears, glancing around at the near-featureless landscape. The sages had always spoken of the Northern Water Tribe as a glorious place, the heart and the pinnacle of the Water Tribe. This wasn’t the capital - and from what Noatak and Tarrlok had said, that was still standing, anyway - but still, it seemed so … empty. Not really any different from the wide open spaces in the South Pole, snow and ice for miles on end.

She wondered if the southern tribe even existed any more.

“Stop,” Noatak ordered.

It took her a second to realize he meant Naga. Korra’s initial dislike reasserted itself. He talked to her just like the sages always had, but at least they’d been, well, sages. Noatak was just a kid like her, only _he_ wasn’t the Avatar. Korra glared over her shoulder at him, her world starting to right itself. She might be a terrible Avatar, but she was still the Avatar. Who did he think he was?

Noatak didn’t seem to notice - he was gazing away, towards the sea. Tarrlok stared in the same direction, his face screwed up in concentration.

“What for?” said Korra.

Noatak finally looked at her, and scowled. “Look, I don’t care who you are or where you came from. Here, _I’m_ in charge of hunting and you need to do exactly what I tell you.”

Korra, furious, opened her mouth to snap back.

“Shh - keep your voices down,” said Tarrlok in an undertone, surprisingly bossy. “We found a tigerseal down there, Korra.”

“Why didn’t he just say so?” she muttered, but pulled Naga to a stop. She didn’t even know how they could have seen one from this far - she didn’t see anything. Maybe they were just more used to looking for danger, growing up with the war so much worse. And if it was that, it was her fault, too.

The hunt, and Noatak’s personality flaws, were all that managed to distract her from her failure. The former, however, wasn’t near as exciting as she remembered from home. The tigerseals in the South Pole were so large and fierce that it took an entire hunting party to bring them down; this one was positively docile, hardly moving even when the three waterbenders froze it in place. It didn’t feel sporting, somehow. Korra used the spear they’d given her to stab it - Noatak’s spear, though he and Tarrlok controlled their ice spikes so well that she wasn’t sure why he bothered with it.

The journey to wherever they were going was long and boring. Noatak hardly spoke, and when he did, it was almost always to his brother. Tarrlok was only a little chattier, though at least he seemed friendly when he did speak. Korra liked _him_ , anyway, even if he wasn’t quite as impressive; Noatak carried the tigerseal on a giant block of ice, not even seeming to tire from the constant waterbending. Korra definitely wanted to finish her waterbending training with his teacher, even if she was a century and then some too late to defeat Fire Lord Sozin with it.

There was always Fire Lord Azula, after all.

* * *

Even though it felt like they’d been riding through the snow forever, they were approaching the brothers’ village by dusk. At least, Tarrlok said so - Korra didn’t see anything different, but she guessed he would know.

“Finally!” she said.

Tarrlok peered up at the sky. “Actually, I think we’re early. Mom’ll be thrilled!”

“The polar beardog sped things up,” said Noatak coolly. Korra guessed that was what passed for thank you with him.

“Gee, thanks, Korra,” she said. “It’d have taken twice as long if you hadn’t given us a ride on your amazing animal companion! No problem, Noatak, it’s my job as the Avatar to help people.”

“Well, it’s not _our_ job,” said Noatak. “We could have left you stranded on the ice. Or trapped in the iceberg for another hundred years. Maybe you’d rather have stayed there.”

“I’m starting to think so!” Korra retorted.

Tarrlok snickered. Then, sobering, he said, “Noatak, shouldn’t we … um … warn her before we get home? About Dad?”

“A firebender burned our father’s face,” Noatak said. “Try not to stare.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Tarrlok. He hesitated. “Well, not all I meant.”

Noatak sighed, his body shifting slightly behind Korra. She did her best to ignore it, peering around for any sign of life. As hard as she strained, she couldn’t see anything but snow and more snow.

It was almost a whole minute before either brother spoke.

“Our father … our father’s a fugitive from the Fire Nation,” Noatak said. “Mom really is Northern Water Tribe - she grew up in the city - but one of Dad’s ancestors was banished generations ago. His family lived in the South Pole for awhile, then moved to the Earth Kingdom once the Fire Nation started carting off Southern waterbenders. That would have been around your time.”

Korra swallowed. “Yeah. It’s what happened to my parents. My dad wasn’t even a warrior.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tarrlok sincerely, and Noatak made a noise that might have been sympathetic.

“Thanks. So your dad’s people were all waterbenders?”

“Yes,” Noatak said. “They discovered a new kind of waterbending - the most powerful form of bending in the world, Dad says - and went to Ba Sing Se and started a business there. By Dad’s time, they were some of the most important people in the city. Even when Sozin’s Comet returned and the Fire Nation finally conquered Ba Sing Se - “

_“What?”_

“Oh,” said Tarrlok. “She wouldn’t know about that, Noatak. It happened when Mom and Dad were kids.”

“Thirty years ago,” said Noatak. “It was a hundred years after Avatar Aang died, to the day.”

“Happy birthday to me,” Korra muttered.

“So anyway,” said Noatak, “even when the Fire Nation took over, things didn’t much change for Dad and his family. But the business was really a cover. They hired people out in secret - for the resistance, for anyone who could pay, except the Fire Nation.”

“What did they do?”

Noatak paused. “All kinds of things. Sabotaged Fire Nation construction projects, smuggled people out of the city - mostly earthbenders and rich merchants - passed information, killed firebenders now and then. Dad personally assassinated the most feared admiral in the Fire Nation navy when he was only twenty-one.”

Korra whistled. She thought she was starting to get an idea of what sort of people they’d been. _Criminals._ “But they didn’t do any of that for the Fire Nation?”

“Nah,” Tarrlok said. “They hated the Fire Nation.”

“And besides, it’d be far too risky to let anyone in the Fire Nation know they were waterbenders,” said Noatak. “They worked for just about everyone else, though, and of course, eventually someone sold them out. There was no trial or anything, the Fire Nation just razed everything to the ground. Our grandparents and aunts and uncles died in the fire, but Dad was on a business trip at the time and they had to search all over the Earth Kingdom for him.”

“It took over a hundred firebenders to bring him down,” added Tarrlok, his voice oddly cold - more like Noatak’s than his own. “That’s how he got burned.”

Korra blinked. “Over a hundred? Really?”

She promptly altered her opinion of the man’s “business.” After all, did crimes against the Fire Nation really count?

“Really,” said Noatak, and _he_ sounded proud. “And then he escaped their prison, and got some doctors to change his face, and came here, to the Northern Water Tribe. That’s where he met our mother. But he’s never forgotten what the Fire Nation did to him and his family. He still wants revenge.”

“Well, so would I!” Korra said.

“ _All_ he wants is revenge,” said Tarrlok, in the same colourless tone as before. “It’s all he cares about. He’s been training us to help him get revenge on the Fire Nation as soon as he knew we were waterbenders. If he finds out you’re the Avatar, he’ll want to use you for it, too.”

Korra bit her lip. She couldn’t remember her parents. She hardly remembered her family at all; she didn’t really know what parents were supposed to be like. She was pretty sure, though, that that wasn’t it. Still, she did remember boys practicing with boomerangs and spears and clubs, watched over by older men - their fathers and teachers. They’d grow up to fight for the tribe someday, and they had to begin as soon as they could. The Fire Nation wasn’t going to wait for them to have a nice childhood first. Weren’t Noatak and Tarrlok better off, knowing how to protect themselves now, even if it’d been hard for awhile?

“But I _want_ to fight the Fire Nation,” said Korra. “I mean, I need to - I’m the Avatar. It’s my job to stop them and restore balance to the world. If that’s what your dad wants too, then I’ll be happy to help.”

Besides, she wanted revenge, too.

“Dad doesn’t care about balance,” muttered Tarrlok.

“He cares about defeating the Fire Nation, though,” Noatak said. Even though he sounded calm, his fingers were digging into Korra’s waist, and she could feel his body tensing as they got closer to their village. “It’s just … be careful around him, okay? He has a bad temper sometimes, and he’s been sick. You don’t want him getting angry at you. And you shouldn’t agree to anything you don’t actually have the guts to go through with.”

“I’m not afraid of _anything!_ ”

“Or if it’s, um, against, uh, the will of the spirits,” said Tarrlok hurriedly.

Korra slumped. “I wouldn’t know. The sages said I’m supposed to be the great bridge between the spirit world and this one, but I’ve never heard a peep from the spirit world. All I’ve got is bending.”

“Well,” said Tarrlok, “bending’s pretty cool. Except - ow!”

Korra was about to glance at him when something caught her eye: a small dark smudge up ahead, and then another and another, all growing larger as they approached. She promptly brightened.

“Hey, is that - “

“We’re the third tent on the right of the main path,” said Tarrlok, and added, “We’re home!”

 _“Finally,”_ said Noatak.

Korra wrinkled her nose, then realized he couldn’t see her, and blew a strand of hair out of her face. He was just some snotty waterbending kid from the north, she told herself loftily; she could ignore him. Korra focused on the distant smudges, which quickly resolved into tents, and then fires and blue-eyed, blue-clad men and women. They looked just like the people back home - many of the men had the same wolf-tails, and the women the same loops of hair, and their anoraks and leggings looked like hers. She supposed she should have guessed from Noatak and Tarrlok, but she - just hadn’t.

If everything had gone right, it’d have been a terrible disappointment. As it was, she just felt relieved. Not everything had changed. The Water Tribe, at least, was the same everywhere. And everywhen.

The villagers stared and gasped as Naga thumped into the village. A little boy shouted and pointed. Korra waved awkwardly, trying to keep Naga from knocking anything over. It was weird - nobody said anything to Noatak and Tarrlok, and they didn’t say anything either, unless she counted a mutter from Noatak that she didn’t bother trying to make out.

Korra drew Naga to a stop by the third tent, just as a pretty woman, her loops neatly braided, ducked out. She didn’t look much older than thirty, but she had Tarrlok’s eyebrows and Noatak’s pointy chin.

The woman’s jaw dropped.

“Hi, Mom,” said Tarrlok. Before Korra could do anything, he jumped off Naga’s back, twisting some slow into an icy ramp and sliding down.

“Tarrlok?” The woman lifted her eyes - _purple_ eyes - to Naga’s back. “Noatak? What …”

Noatak jerked back from Korra and sprang down himself, landing lightly beside his brother. “It’s a long story,” he said.

Tarrlok just grinned. “Did you see, Mom? We’ve been riding a polar beardog! It’s Korra’s. Um, this is Korra.” He gestured up at her.

“Hello,” said Korra. She jumped down and held out her hand.

The woman blinked several times. Then she shook the outstretched hand heartily, smiling and shaking her head. “Where are my manners? My name is Tamaya. Welcome to our home, and thank you for giving my boys a lift. Are you a friend of theirs?”

“No,” said Noatak.

“Yes,” said Tarrlok.

“They found me in an iceberg,” Korra said. She glanced at Noatak, who was frowning at the ground, his shoulders stiff and his hands clenched tightly behind his back. “Um. It really is a long story.”

“Well,” said Tamaya, “any friend of my sons’ is welcome here. Please, come inside. Dinner is nearly ready, and you must all be famished.”

“Thanks. Just let me have a word with Naga, and I’ll be right in.”

Korra took Naga aside, firmly instructing her to stay put and not eat anything or roar at anyone (“unless it’s bandits or something”), while Noatak deposited the tigerseal behind the tent, encasing it in ice with an ease she couldn’t help but envy. They walked in without a word to one another.

Inside, the tent was airy, spacious, and brightly lit, but otherwise very like the ones she remembered. Korra smiled at the familiar trophies hanging from the walls, the smell of freshly stewed sea prunes, the shields and spears lying haphazardly about.

“Well, come on,” said Noatak impatiently.

They made their way to a long wooden table, where Tamaya was already ladling stew into bowls. Korra gladly took her place between Tarrlok and Tamaya - _**they** won’t give me indigestion, anyway._

“This looks wonderful, ma’am,” she said honestly.

“Well, thank you, dear,” said Tamaya. “Eat as much as you’d like, I made far too much.”

Even so, she looked a bit surprised when Korra came back for thirds and fourths.

“Korra hasn’t eaten in a hundred and thirty years, Mom,” said Tarrlok.

Tamaya frowned. “Tarrlok, really, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy appetite. I just wish you and Noatak - “

“It’s true,” Noatak said, not even looking up. “She’s the Avatar.”

There was a soft thump - no big deal, Korra would have thought, but Noatak stiffened further, Tarrlok froze, and Tamaya’s face lit up. Then the hangings parted, and a tall warrior limped out, his long, grey hair obscuring his face.

“What’s this about the Avatar?”


	5. Enemies of the Enemy

"Yakone! You shouldn't be up," Tamaya cried, rushing to his side. "If your fever comes back—"

"It won't," said Yakone, pushing her away.

Korra was already on her feet, though Noatak and Tarrlok hadn't moved. Maybe customs were different here, or now. Or maybe Noatak had no manners and Tarrlok followed his lead. That seemed about equally likely.

Yakone lifted his head to look straight at her, his hair falling back. A mass of red scars ran diagonally across his face, from the left side of his brow to the right of his mouth, which was tugged up by the ruined tissue, leaving him with a permanent sneer. He had no eyebrows. Otherwise, he looked pretty much like a normal guy; she'd braced herself for something much worse, and didn't even start at the sight of him, just blinked twice and then bowed. After a moment, Yakone returned the gesture.

"Who are you?" he demanded, making his way to the seat between Noatak and Tamaya.

"My name's Korra." She returned to her own seat, taking a deep breath. "I'm from the Southern Water Tribe and I'm the Avatar."

"The Avatar, are you?" he said, his tone neutral. He seemed far less enthusiastic than his sons had led her to expect. Yakone's pale, shrewd eyes turned towards her. "And how, exactly, did the Avatar come to be sitting at my table?"

Korra shifted, uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. He seemed intensely focused on her, so much that she felt as if he were looking _into_ her and not just at her, but at the same time, there was something absent about his expression, almost distracted. Like he was listening to some other, more interesting conversation somewhere else.

She bristled. "Noatak and Tarrlok found me in the ice," she said.

Yakone's eyes didn't waver. "Is that so?"

"Yes," said Noatak shortly. "She was frozen inside an iceberg with her polar beardog."

Tarrlok glanced between Yakone, Noatak, and Korra, his face pinched and unhappy. "We saw her bend three elements, Dad. And it was a spirit iceberg. A bolt of light shot out the top when we sliced it open."

"Hm," said Yakone, sounding little more impressed than before. They all ate in uncomfortable silence — well, everyone but Yakone and Noatak, who just seemed indifferent. Korra thought she understood, now, how Noatak could be related to people as sweet as Tamaya and Tarrlok - he was obviously just like his father.

Then Yakone barked out, "How long?"

Korra frowned.

"The iceberg. How long were you inside?"

"Oh. Um - over a hundred years. I don't know exactly." Korra's hearty appetite deserted her. She poked disconsolately at a chunk of meat floating around her stew. "Noatak and Tarrlok said so, though. I just - I was supposed to come to the Northern Water Tribe to find a waterbending master. There aren't, there _weren't_ any left at home."

She glanced up. Yakone's gaze had returned to her, that disconcerting focused remoteness back in full force. Noatak, his blank expression dropping for a moment, eyed his father with what she would have thought dislike in anyone else. Tarrlok just looked miserable.

"But I'm thirteen," she added, almost certain she was rambling. "And I was born the day Fire Lord Sozin killed all the Air Nomads."

"Oh, not quite _all_ ," said Yakone, as unconcerned as before. Even Noatak gaped at him. "But never mind that. Thirteen - yes, well over a century, then. Tell me, Avatar, how did your search for a waterbending teacher end in over a hundred years' imprisonment in a spirit iceberg?"

Korra flushed. "I - the water sages, who protected me while I was growing up, brought me as far north as they could, but there wasn't any passage to the Northern Water Tribe. The city, I mean. They wouldn't … well, I decided to find my own way north." Her mouth set in a mulish expression.

For the first time, something like interest crossed Yakone's face. "You swam all the way here? From the Earth Kingdom?"

"Well, not alone - I had a friend with me. Naga, she's my polar beardog."

"Ah," said Yakone.

"I'm not sure what happened. There were these firebenders and I got caught in a storm. I think I was drowning. The next thing I knew, Noatak and Tarrlok were helping me out of the iceberg." She gestured at his sons.

"One of your better decisions, boys," said Yakone, then returned his attention to Korra. "I would imagine you went into the Avatar State."

Korra blinked. "The what?"

He cleared his throat, lowering his chopsticks. "In my youth, I had the opportunity to attend Ba Sing Se University, among other places. As a waterbender, I was interested in the boundaries between the physical and the spiritual, which naturally included research on the Avatar."

Korra didn't know what waterbending had to do with it, but she nodded anyway.

"The Avatar State, as far as I understood," Yakone continued, "is a mechanism which allows the Avatar to summon the combined power of his or her previous lives. Even very young Avatars have the ability to enter the state, but only at their most desperate, usually when they lives are in danger. A fully realized Avatar, however, can access it at will." His pale eyes flickered. "Should you master it, you will be virtually invincible. In any case, drowning to death would certainly be enough to trigger the Avatar State."

Korra's throat was dry. It sounded amazing. And maybe a little scary. But mostly amazing.

"Oh," she said. "Well - that'd be really good for fighting the Fire Nation, if I could figure it out. The sages never said anything about that, just about learning the elements."

"Historically, it appeared to accompany mastery of all four," he said. Next to her, Tarrlok shifted nervously; his brother gave him a sharp look and he stiffened again. "I imagine it will be the same for you, especially since you're Water Tribe - your last element will be air. Airbenders were known for their spirituality."

"Thanks," said Korra awkwardly. She glanced at his wife. "And thanks for feeding me, Tamaya. It really was a hundred and thirty years since the last time I ate!"

Tamaya chuckled. "It's a pleasure. Well, dear, for better or worse, you've found the Northern Water Tribe. It's not the city by any means, but every village has its share of waterbenders - all four of us are. You shouldn't have any trouble finding a master. Why, I don't imagine there's a greater waterbender than Yakone in the whole North Pole." She gazed fondly at her husband.

"I, um, -" Korra glanced at Noatak and Tarrlok, both looking deeply interested in their food. She managed to smile at Tamaya before forcing herself to meet Yakone's eyes. "Actually, I was hoping - I mean, of course, it's up to you - but Noatak and Tarrlok are already the best waterbenders I've ever met, and - if you taught them - uh. If it's not too much trouble, could _you_ complete my waterbending training?"

"I would be honoured, Avatar," Yakone said, and smiled.

* * *

Zahra's father was a strong-willed, short-tempered man — they all knew that. Zuko-being-angry was nothing new in their family. Usually, though, he directed his rage at unoffending trees and the like. She couldn't remember _ever_ hearing him raise his voice inside the house.

"That light must have come from an incredibly powerful source!"

"And what if it did?" retorted Iroh. "What if it _is_ the Avatar? Do you think Azula will restore your honour if you deliver the Avatar to her? Ha! She would clap us all in chains the moment she had him in her grasp — Zahra first of all!"

Zahra shivered. She'd never laid eyes on her aunt, but she'd seen enough pictures, and heard enough stories, that Fire Lord Azula played a starring role in her nightmares. The news they heard from a growing stream of Fire Nation sympathizers didn't help. Azula had never married or had children, and she fought with her armies - secretly, Zahra admired her for that, but it was dangerous. Supposing that nobody poisoned or otherwise-assassinated her first. Of course, nobody had managed it before now, and it wasn't like people hadn't tried. But she was getting older: more unhinged, too, some said. She could die at any moment. And she had no heir.

Nobody dared mention Zuko to her, much less Zahra. However, even Azula could not keep people from wondering about her death, and whispering among themselves. It would be one thing if it were only Zuko, exiled as a boy under a cloud of dishonour, and two years older than the aging Fire Lord. But he'd married late, and by now it was common knowledge that he had a young, gifted daughter. Some speculated that she might make a worthy heir to the Fire Lord, and others that she might one day supplant her.

"Why does Aunt Azula hate me?" she'd asked Iroh once.

He patiently told her that Azula was, for one, completely insane, and for another, surrounded by people who would be only too glad to set Zahra in her place. "And she knows that," he said. "Your aunt's crazy, but she's very, very clever, very good at politics, and an excellent judge of character. Nobody knows better than Azula that, as long as you live, you are a danger to her."

Zahra never forgot that. If they returned to the Fire Nation, even with the Avatar in chains, she'd be dead before morning. Probably Iroh too, and definitely her father. They couldn't go back.

"If you will not think yourself, think of your daughter!" Iroh was saying.

Her father's hands, resting on the table, clenched. "I _am_ thinking—Azula has no power to return my honour. I know that. Our honour is not a parcel to be given or taken away by others; it exists in _ourselves_ and our conduct. You taught me that, uncle. I'm not trying to end my exile, or turn the Avatar over to Azula. But to simply leave him at large, spreading chaos everywhere he goes, while the world burns? No, I am not prepared to do that. We have been running and hiding for decades, but this is our chance. We must find him and subdue him."

"And how are we going to do that?" Iroh demanded. "I'm too old for this, Zuko. _You're_ too old for this. And Zahra's too young. She needs stability in her life."

"Between running from village to village while Azula has us hunted down like cattle?"

Zahra's eyes darted between her father and his uncle. If the Avatar really was alive and shooting off lights—well, she wasn't sure how they would contain him. But if they did, somehow, then maybe they'd finally be safe. Who would be crazy enough to threaten them if they could unleash the Avatar at any moment? Aunt Azula, maybe, and she'd get what was coming to her.

"I agree with Dad," she said firmly. "I don't want to run any more. Besides, I'm older than he was when he started looking for the Avatar, and he's younger than you were when you left with him. You don't have to _do_ anything, Uncle Iroh. You can just hang around and play Pai Sho."

Iroh sighed. "I seem to be outnumbered. Do you have a plan, Zuko?"

"I've kept enough money aside to buy a boat and hire a crew, if we ever needed to," he said. "It'll have to be strong enough to get us through the ice, and small enough for us to pass relatively unnoticed. We'll need food, and enough supplies to survive the journey through the North Pole. It might be a little challenging."

Iroh covered his eyes.

"It'll be _fun_ ," said Zahra.


End file.
